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The pitfalls and bright points of trophy-children
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The majority of, if not all, mothers think that their babies are the most beautiful and handsome creatures in the universe. (Shutterstock/-)
T
he majority of, if not all, mothers think that their babies are the most beautiful and handsome creatures in the universe. Then they begin to brag, to compare and to collect trophies. Wait, what? Trophies?
When I brought my son, Andrew, home from America, he was immediately scouted by an advertising agency as a formula milk talent because of his half-Caucasian look. From then on, as modeling agencies passed my phone number from one to another, his life has been full of competitions, whether it’s labeled “casting” or “contest”.
His first success was a magazine cover contest, reaching the finals. After that, we tried everything from baby dancing to fashion shows. Too bad he was too old for crawling and healthy baby competitions.
Since then, I’ve been amazed at how far parents would go for trophies.
Most of the competitions are held every weekend. During peak time like Chinese New Year or Christmas, me (and other parents as well) can participate in up to two competitions in a day, as far as Jakarta traffic allows.
Parents with two or more children may sometimes split up to different competitions at different ends of Jakarta. In other parts of Indonesia, competitive parents who live in suburbs or smaller cities will travel and spend their weekend in the capital just to compete.
With the contest schedule getting out of hand quickly, I created a blog with the schedule of competitions by 2-year-old son was to enter. It went viral. Apparently plenty of mothers out there were searching for the same recognition, that their babies are the most [fill in the blank] in Indonesia.
Years later, now that the blog has transformed into a website and even more mothers are (I can safely say) obsessed with competitions, I realize that contests and casting are tools of empowerment for some.
Imagine a housewife in a small town, bogged down in everyday routine, who can suddenly go on a trip to Singapore just because her son’s picture won a photo competition. Or what if a family with four children who used to struggle with bills can now save some money because their children have been picked up by talent agencies?
Well, while contests and casting are definitely two different issues, winning something is the same feeling.
Winning also teaches children confidence, and gives them the feeling that someone cares and values their efforts. Of course, I’m talking about the older ones who understand their choices, not the babies who see stages as fun and play.
Be careful, because constant winning can turn you into an ambitious snob - and I’m not talking only about the young ones. Even worse, these trophies can easily turn casual participation into addiction, which is disastrous if parents and children don’t have the same goals. At one of his casting calls, my son overheard a mother scolding her daughter who couldn’t stay up all night to finish shooting like her peers, thus scoring fewer TV series contracts.
My son didn’t always win. He was the “eternal finalist”, as I would often call him. He would go all the way to the top and return from the stage empty-handed.
But as I see him grow from tears of disappointment to a spirit of tenacity, I’d say that losing (if done correctly) can in fact be of greater benefit to a child’s development. They learn to manage defeat and motivate themselves to get up and try again. They learn to accept disappointment properly and be thankful when they do win something, however small.
As I get deeper into the competition scene, I observed that winning a competition can be tricky because, in the end, it all depends on the judges’ preference. Yes, there are score sheets, but how can you rate a baby’s cuteness with numbers? The same goes with casting, where what matters is clients’ ultimate will.
So, when my son finally gave up these competitions a year ago, I didn’t complain.
Whether or not my son goes on stage to accept a trophy, baby competitions had given me something more valuable: friends. We started with weekly meetings at malls, or sharing a taxi to race to the next stage or casting studio. Then we started to babysit each other’s kids.
These are the kinds that will stay with you through winning and losing, through fair play and cheating, on and off stage. The best friends my son has right now are the ones that used to be his competitors on stage.
That’s when counting trophies doesn’t seem so important anymore.
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Ruth Ninajanty is a mom blogger who enjoys everyday adventure with her son.
